Freddie
by Sirius Blaak
Summary: DH SPOILERS ABOUND! It's been 4 months since Percy lost his brother, and he's never dealt with the tragedy properly.  Now a mysterious little boy is helping him deal with his loss and helping him start afresh.
1. Chapter 1

_Deathly Hallows spoilers abound in this one!!! So look out!_

_This story is told completely from Percy's POV, and he has some fun adventures at the ministry, at George's joke shop, and at home with his family, all thanks to a little boy he meets on the street._

_Disclaimer: All HP characters (c) JKR. But I own that mysterious little boy!!_

* * *

Percy Weasley was late. 

He was never late, so why had today been different? His alarm clock had been set, his robes hung on his doorknob, and he had even thrown together a quick lunch the night before.

But here he was, rushing around his house, looking for socks.

His frantic scavenger hunt hadn't been the only cause of his lateness. His alarm clock had decided to go off at least thirty minutes late, meaning that he only just had enough time to jump in the shower and wash his hair before he would have to pull on his robes and leave for work. Of course, to add to his bad luck, there had been no warm water in the pipes, and he could not for the life of him remember the spell to heat water. Giving up the shower as a bad job ten minutes later, he had found no matching socks in his drawer.

Thus, we are back at the beginning, with Percy Weasley running around his house, wondering why he had not begged his mother and father to let him move back in after the monumental battle with Voldemort.

Cursing, he simply plunged his hand back into his sock drawer, deciding that no one would be looking at his feet anyway. He drew out two mismatched socks: one dark black with a white stripe running across the top, and the other a bright yellow decorated with a large red 'G' for Gryffindor. As he pulled them on, he distinctly remembered unwrapping the yellow ones six Christmases previously, as they had been a gift from his brother, Fred.

Pushing thoughts of his brother to the back of his head, Percy straightened up, now socked, and walked purposely into the front hall (as he liked to call it, for in actuality it was little bigger than a broom cupboard) and bent down to pull on his shoes.

To his slight displeasure, his robes were not long enough and his shoes not high enough to completely conceal his socks, but this could not be helped now. Concentrating hard on the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, Percy turned on the spot, disappearing from his front "hall" and reappearing in the Atrium.

He looked around the atrium for a split second, then bustled off to the clanking lifts. Squeezing into a particularly full one, he began his ascent.

Five floors later, he exited the lift, which was much emptier than it had been when he had first arrived. He began walking briskly and purposely through the other offices, heading for the other side of the floor.

After his first few disastrous years at the ministry, being Mr. Crouch's assistant and then Cornelius Fudge's, Percy had considerably… well, to put it plainly, deflated his head. He felt, and rightly so, that his advancement at the ministry during such a short time had done more harm than good, and decided to demote himself and work from the bottom.

Reaching the rather shrunken door that led to his office, Percy reached for the handle. He had barely touched it when it snapped at his fingers loudly.

"Turpin!" Percy yelled, withdrawing his hand quickly and frowning at the door. There was a frantic scuffling behind it, and the door was pushed open by a witch with elbow-length blonde hair. She smiled innocently up at him.

"Yes, Percy?" she asked sweetly, blinking her large, brown eyes slowly.

"What did you do to the door?" Percy asked through clenched teeth.

"Oh, that!" the witch giggled. She pulled her wand out of her robes and tapped the door handle. It glowed slightly for a few seconds, then returned to its original dull metallic sheen.

"It should be fine now," she insisted, flashing him an enormous smile before disappearing back into the office beyond it.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Percy squeezed through the door and pulled it shut behind him. The small office that greeted him was in disarray. Memos were flapping above his chair, and his in-tray was overflowing. Lisa Turpin's desk, however, was devoid of papers.

Percy sank into his chair, sighing. He rubbed his eyes, then grabbed above his head for one of the many memos. These memos were, however, another one of Lisa's tricks, for he had no sooner extended his hand into the mass of hovering paper when all the little airplanes attacked his hand.

"Ouch!" he cried, withdrawing it from the flock of paper hastily, examining several new paper cuts. Then, in annoyance, he looked over at Lisa. "What was that for, Turpin?"

"You're late," she said simply. "And you know what happens when you're late, Percy."

"Yeah," Percy said sarcastically, still annoyed. "You charm the door to try and eat me, and then you make all my memos attack me! Do you like watching me suffer or something?"

"No, Percy, I don't," Lisa insisted, her eyes widening. "That's not what I meant. I meant, you have to do all my work if you're late, remember?"

"No," Percy said flatly, although this was a lie. He remembered perfectly well the boast he had made to Lisa the moment the two of them had started working together.

"I'm never late," he had said proudly, puffing out his chest.

"There's no such thing as never," Lisa had insisted, and the two had then agreed that if Percy was ever late, he would have to do all of Lisa's work in addition to his own.

"That still doesn't explain the airplanes or the door handle," he said, crossing his arms and swiveling in his seat to look at Lisa.

"I was just having a bit of fun with you, Perce," she said with a tittering laugh. "Well, I'm off. I told Kingsley that I would explain how to use a telephone so he can communicate better with the muggle prime minister."

No sooner had she said this than she stood up from her seat, crossed the office in three strides, and had disappeared through the tiny door.

Percy let out a groan and sank forward onto his desk, his face in his hands. The airplanes obviously took this as their cue to cease their flapping, for all of them collapsed on the back of his neck, lying flat and harmless.

Percy straightened up, the memos falling to the floor. He would deal with them later. For now, he needed to attack his overflowing in-tray. Pulling a stack of papers out of it, he began reading the one on top.

_"Hey Perce, it's Ron. Just wanted to let you know that Mum's making turkey tonight, and you should come by for dinner around seven."_

Percy chuckled. Ron was still in training to become an Auror, but he was at the ministry every day just the same, accompanied by Harry Potter, another Auror in training. Percy had only seen the two a few times so far, but knew that they were progressing fast and they would soon become regular ornaments adorning his walk to his office.

Percy pulled his wand out of his pocket and waved it, causing Ron's note to fly up and stick itself onto the bulletin board on the wall above Percy's desk. Turning back to the rest of the papers, he began shuffling through them, putting some to one side of his desk and others on the opposite side.

When he had finished sorting the top-most contents of his in-tray, he seized another stack from the small black tray and laid them in the center of his desk. As he did so, he caught a whiff of something foul.

Wrinkling his nose, Percy leaned closer to his in-tray. The smell of dragon dung met his nose, causing him to wrinkle it further.

"Of course," he said softly. Fred and George had sent him dragon dung years back when he had first entered the ministry. This he had found out from listening at the twin's bedroom door, deciding to eavesdrop rather than burst in and demand silence.

One would think, obviously, that Percy would have cleaned out his in-tray. This he had done, but before his in-tray had been completely dung-free, he had started receiving Howlers. These red enveloped exploded if they were not opened immediately, meaning that Percy had arrived at work one morning with his entire desk smoking and giving off a smell like burnt eggs and, yes, dragon dung.

The magical fire from the Howlers seemed to have permanently imprinted the smell of dung onto his in-tray. At first he had been annoyed with this fact, but, having become the minister's junior assistant not long after, he was not around his in-tray as much.

But in this office, well, there was hardly anything that didn't have to do with his in-tray. It had always been so in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, even when his father had been working here.

Yes, Percy had decided to take on his father's old post after the war with Voldemort. Of course, he had no intention of staying in this office forever, but he felt that it was only fair to work his way up the ranks, for the experience of doing so if nothing else.

This job at the ministry was not his only job either. The income was not plentiful, so he had taken on a second job at none other than Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, making his younger brother his boss. This did not bother him in the slightest, for sometimes he felt that bullying him was the only thing that kept George from dwelling on thoughts of his beloved twin Fred.

It was thanks to Fred that Percy had decided to take on a job at the joke shop. He had never been good with people, jokes, or, to put it plainly, fun, but after Fred's death, George had seemed to lose the ambition to keep the joke shop running. Percy was determined to help George since Fred was no longer around, so he had applied for a job. George, though stunned, had accepted his offer.

Admittedly, Percy was not the store's best employee. He was not very good at socializing with the customers, and was such a stickler for the rules that he point blank refused to sell a bunch of thirteen year olds a box of Skiving Snackboxes. George had shouted himself hoarse when he learned of this.

"What good are the snackboxes to adults?" he had thundered, seeming to tower over Percy (although Percy was taller). "We can't turn away customers because we're still stuck in our 'I-must- enforce-every-Hogwarts-school-rule-because-I-am-Head-Boy' phase!" After this rant, he had deducted the cost of the snackbox from Percy's salary, and the two had never spoken of the incident again.

Having finished sorting his in-tray, Percy attacked the stack of memos marked 'urgent.' There was an exploding computer in Surrey, a cursed book in a library in the middle of London, and talking map in Bristol. Deciding he would tackle the one closest to home, he grabbed the memo detailing the cursed book and practically ran out of the office.

He was still reading it when he reached the lifts. The doors clanged open, and Percy stepped in to stand next to…

"Ron?"

"Oh, hey Perce," Ron greeted his older brother with enthusiasm. "What're you up to?"

"Cursed book in a muggle library," Percy said shortly. "You?"

"Nothing much," Ron shrugged. "More self-transfiguration practice today, and that's about it."

Percy wished him luck as the lift doors opened to reveal the atrium. After telling him to say hello to Harry for him, Percy rushed out, the memo still clutched in his hand. Deciding to take the visitor's entrance rather than Apparate into the middle of muggle London, Percy clambered into the telephone booth next to the lifts.

"Thank you for visiting the Ministry of Magic," a cool female voice said, and the booth began to rise into the air. Percy felt slightly claustrophobic in the small booth, but he pushed these thoughts out of his head as the booth broke the surface and sunlight streamed into his eyes.

He pushed the doors open enthusiastically and glanced down at the memo again, looking for the approximate location of the library. The memo told him it was on the north side of London. After checking to make sure no muggles were watching, Percy placed his wand in the palm of his hand and muttered, "Point me."

The wand spun for a moment, then pointed him up the street he was on.

"Perfect," Percy nodded, tucked his wand into his pocket, and began walking briskly. He glanced down at the memo again, and in that split second he collided with someone.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" Percy exclaimed as he staggered back a couple paces. He looked for the person he had hit, but they were nowhere to be seen.

"Mister, I'm down here!"

Percy started and looked down at the sidewalk. Sprawled on the ground was a small boy with vibrant red hair to match his own. The boy clutched crutches in both hands, and when Percy looked closer he saw something metallic glinting from under the boy's pant leg.

"Blimey, I'm sorry!" Percy squatted down and offered the boy his arm. This he accepted, and hauled himself back onto his feet.

Now that the boy was standing, Percy could get a good look at him. He wore a dirty red shirt and jeans ripped at his knees. He wore no socks, and his sandals seemed to be falling apart. The metal somethings on his ankles looked rusty, and the crutches were a little too small.

"Thank you, mister!" the little boy exclaimed, and he began limping away from Percy, looking extremely awkward on his small crutches.

"Wait a minute!" Percy called, and the boy stopped and turned around to look at him. "Where are your parents?"

"Oh," the little boy's mouth turned down and his eyes started to swim with tears. "They died."

"I'm sorry," Percy said awkwardly. "Are you living with your relatives?"

"Don't have any," the boy admitted, his head drooping. "I've been on my own ever since the bad people came."

"The bad people?" Percy was confused.

"My daddy called them wizards, but everyone knows wizards aren't real," the boy said dismissively.

Percy felt a swoop of anger. This little boy's family had been murdered, by the looks of it, by Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters, and the wizarding world had done nothing to help him. This boy had lost everything, and not a single witch or wizard had found it in their hearts to help him.

"How old are you?" he asked, squatting down again so he was on eye-level with the boy.

"Seven," the boy said proudly. "A nice lady told me that yesterday was October 27, and that's my birthday!"

"And what's your name, bud?"

"Freddie."

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_Two post-story notes: 1) please review, and 2) be the first to figure out who Lisa Turpin is and you can choose which Death Eater killed little Freddie's family._


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, it's been a while. Sorry about that. I've had other stories, homework, and the holidays to keep me occupied, and now that one of three is gone I'll have more time. Hopefully I'll be able to keep this story updated!_

_Disclaimer: JKR owns all!_

* * *

Percy took a deep breath. His wand was pointed directly in between his eyes, and his breathing was coming in deep gasps. Biting his lip, he closed his eyes and muttered the curse.

When he opened his eyes again, he immediately emerged from the stall of the muggle restroom and looked at himself in the mirror. The curse had worked perfectly, despite Percy's misgivings. He had cursed himself to look as if he had come down with a fever. There were bags under his eyes, he was extremely pale, and although he felt perfectly fine, beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

He retreated back into the stall of the restroom and locked the door behind him. He pulled a battered piece of parchment and a quill out of a pocket in his robes, and, balancing the parchment on the little box that housed the toilet paper, scribbled a not to Lisa Turpin.

_Lisa, I apologize for the inconvenience, but I have come down with a muggle illness that I can't seem to shake. There are a few memos marked 'urgent' on my desk, and if you could take care of them it would be much appreciated. I'll be sure to make it up to you in the future. Yours sincerely, Percy_

He tucked the note and quill back in his robes and turned on the spot. When the constricting feeling passed, he was standing back inside his apartment.

Throwing off his work robes, Percy crossed into the living area, where the large window was ajar. His owl, Hermes, was resting on a perch nearby. Percy hastily nudged the owl awake.

"Sorry, Hermes, but this is an emergency," he said apologetically. He knew Hermes hated making deliveries during the day, but, like he had said, it was an emergency.

After retrieving the note from his tossed-aside robes and giving it to Hermes to deliver to the ministry, Percy hastily changed into his best imitation of muggle clothing. He wore a pair of jeans and a slightly overlarge sweater.

After tucking his wand into an inside pocket of his sweater, Percy turned on the spot and was back inside the muggle bathroom. Luckily the stall he appeared in was unoccupied.

He almost ran outside, where the small boy named Freddie was waiting for him.

"How'dja do that, Mister?" he asked, smiling toothily up at Percy.

"Do what?" Percy asked, confused.

"You look all sick," the boy pointed at Percy's face, "and your clothes are different."

"Um," Percy's heart rate picked up. He had not expected the boy to be that perceptive. "Magic?" He tried to make this sound as if he was joking.

"Okay," Freddie shrugged.

"Freddie, can you close your eyes for a minute?" Percy asked, not slightly nervous.

"Why?" Freddie cocked his head when he asked questions, Percy noticed. With a pang, he remembered that had been Fred's signature habit until he had turned nine.

_'Because I'm about to break the Statute of Secrecy and the whole thing would be a lot easier if you weren't watching,'_ Percy thought, but said, "Just trust me, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Mister," Freddie shrugged again and closed his eyes.

Looking left and right, Percy stuck out his right arm.

An enormous, triple-decker bus appeared in front of him. The muggle cars and the muggles on the street did not notice the bus and kept going about their own business. Percy let out the breath he had not realized he was holding.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus," the conductor Stan Shunpike, still a very pimply wizard (though not as energetic after his stay in Azkaban), greeted Percy.

"You can look now, Freddie," Percy told the little boy, who opened his eyes. At first the little boy didn't look at the Knight Bus, but after a few seconds his eyes found it and his jaw dropped.

"That's a really big bus," he said in disbelief.

"Yep," Stan said proudly. "So, where to?"

But Percy did not answer. He had taken a couple steps closer to the Knight Bus, ready to board, but before he had taken his fourth step he felt a small hand grab his own. Looking behind him, he saw Freddie, looking a bit frightened, his tiny hand holding Percy's with a vice-like grip.

"You okay, Freddie?" Percy asked.

"Mister, where are you going?" Freddie asked, looking confused.

"What?" Percy was also confused, so, motioning to Stan to wait for a minute, he bent down to speak to Freddie face-to-face. "What do you mean, where am I going? Don't you want to come with me?"

Freddie's face brightened. "You want me to come with you?" He looked disbelieving.

"Of course," Percy answered, smiling. "Why, do you have somewhere else you'd rather be?"

"Well, my mom always told me not to go with strangers," Freddie said suddenly, looking guilty. "Nobody's ever wanted me to go with them before. Everyone's ignored me."

"If you don't want to come, you don't have to," Percy assured him. "If you'd like to come with me, then I promise that I will take good care of you."

"Pinky promise?" Freddie held out his little finger, looking expectant.

"What am I supposed to do?"

Laughing, Freddie took Percy's hand and wrapped his pinky around Percy's.

"That's a pinky promise," Freddie explained.

"Oh, okay," Percy was still a bit confused. "Then I pinky promise to take good care of you."

Straightening up, Percy told Stan where to find the Burrow. Freddie took Percy's hand again, and the two of them boarded the bus. There was a slight mishap with Freddie's crutches, but the two made it on just fine.

Percy chose two seats close to the front of the bus. Freddie was reluctant to sit; he seemed to want to explore the entire bus. His eyes were wide and he kept looking up to the other levels. Percy could only imagine what it felt like to be a seven year old muggle coming onto the Knight Bus.

"That'll be seventeen sickles," Stan informed Percy after the two had been seated.

"Oh, right," Percy had completely forgotten that he would have to pay. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he came up with a galleon, a few sickles, and a small handful of knuts. He gave Stan the galleon.

"Wow, that's some funky money you've got, Mister," Freddie said, his eyes even wider. "Are you from another country?"

"No, uh, this bus just uses special money," Percy answered wildly, hoping Freddie wouldn't ask too many more questions.

"Can I see it?" Freddie asked, his eyes on the pocket Percy had put his money in.

"Sure," Percy pulled out one sickle and one knut and handed the money to Freddie. The little boy turned the coins over at least five times, exploring every inch.

_BANG!_

With a jolt, the Knight Bus began moving, their seats sliding back at least three feet and knocking into the row of chairs behind them. Freddie, who had not been expecting this, fell out of his seat and dropped the money. His crutches fell under his seat. Stunned, he looked up at Percy for explanation.

Percy held out his hand and helped Freddie back up. When he was satisfied the boy was safely back in his seat, he picked up the small crutches and held them in his lap rather than risk losing them on the bus.

"What was that?" Freddie asked, seemingly terrified out of his wits.

"That was the bus starting," Percy tried to explain without telling Freddie what exactly was going on. "Sorry, Freddie, I forgot."

But he doubted Freddie even heard his last sentence. The boy's eyes had turned towards the window, where everything was a gray blur. Sometimes quick glimpses of buildings could be seen, as well as mailboxes and lampposts jumping out of the way.

Percy felt stupid. What had he been thinking, bringing a muggle boy he barely knew onto the Knight Bus? Why didn't they take a field trip into Diagon Alley while they were at it? Feeling sick to his stomach, Percy closed his eyes, willing the trip to be over.

_BANG!_

As the bus screeched to a halt, Percy flung out his arm, holding Freddie in his seat.

"That's your stop, mate," Stan said, turning around and addressing Percy.

"Thank you," Percy said shakily, helping Freddie stand up. The pair walked to the door, wobbling, and staggered down the stairs. Percy thought he had a worse time getting out than Freddie, who had to manage crutches.

When the two were safely out the door, the doors to the Knight Bus closed. Freddie waved to Stan inside, and before Percy had a chance to ask Freddie to look away, the Knight Bus sped away.

"Whoa," Freddie craned his neck, trying to see the bus. "Why didn't the bus get a ticket?"

"A what?" Percy asked.

"A speeding ticket," Freddie said, as if that were obvious. "My daddy got one once, and he wasn't going nearly as fast."

"Trust me, Freddie, it's a special bus," Percy said, taking a deep breath. He really hadn't thought out this plan very well.

"Is this your house?" Freddie asked, pointing over to where the Burrow seemed to stick out of the ground.

"It's my mother and father's house," Percy corrected him. "My mother should be home."

No sooner had he said this than Mrs. Weasley came bursting out of the house, running towards the pair of them, her arms wide open. Feeling guilty, Percy remembered that he hadn't visited for almost a month.

"What should I call her?" Freddie asked, tugging on Percy's sleeve and looking at Mrs. Weasley nervously.

Percy didn't get a chance to answer, for Mrs. Weasley flung her arms around him, close to tears, as he opened his mouth. He awkwardly embraced her as well.

"Oh, Percy, it's so good to see you," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she released him. Then, catching sight of his still sickly appearance, she let out a cry. "What is it, dear? What did you catch?"

Percy, who had forgotten all about his appearance, had to think for a minute before he realized what his mother was referring to.

"Oh, I'm not really sick. But I'll explain later. This," he gestured to Freddie, who had backed away behind Percy, obviously nervous, "is Freddie."

At first Mrs. Weasley was too distracted by Percy's appearance to take in what he had said. Then, when she noticed Freddie, she looked confused. After a couple seconds, she seemed to process what exactly his name was, and he eyes began swimming with tears.

"Freddie?" she asked, bending down to be on eye level with the little boy.

"Yes ma'am," Freddie answered, still looking nervous. "And you're Mister's mom, aren't you?"

It took Percy a couple seconds to realize that 'Mister' was him, and that he had never introduced himself to Freddie.

"Yes, I'm Percy's mom," Mrs. Weasley was the first to respond.

"Could we find something for Freddie to eat, Mom?" Percy asked quickly, sensing that he was about to be interrogated and not sure he wanted Freddie to be there when his mother started asking questions. "Then I can explain everything to you."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley looked slightly taken aback, but stood up immediately. "What do you like to eat?"

"Oh, I'll eat anything, ma'am," Freddie nodded enthusiastically.

"We'll have plenty that you'll like, then," Mrs. Weasley assured him, starting to walk back to the Burrow. "And you don't have to call me 'ma'am,' dear. You could call me Mrs. Weasley or Miss Molly or whatever is easy to remember."

"Mrs. W?" Freddie asked hesitantly.

Mrs. Weasley smiled and ruffled Freddie's hair. "Mrs. W is perfect."

As the strange party of three headed back to the Burrow, each had different thought running through their heads. In Percy's case?

_How can we possibly take care of a muggle child in a wizarding world?_


End file.
